


Sketch

by Lilyliegh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Friendship, Gen, Musicians, general artsy stuff, like they meet in a coffee shop but it's not the main feature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: It would make much more sense to return the missing sketchbook to the barista and continue on with her day, but Yuzu wants to meet the artist for herself, so she sets off on an all-around-town quest to track down the owner of the sketchbook.





	Sketch

**Author's Note:**

> this is a _very_ belated giftfic for iyliss, my wonderful artist friend who for two years has made presents for me for my birthday. i wanted to return the favour, but i took too much writing and irl stuff on my plate, and thus this fic is long overdue. still, it's a simple, fun, friendshippy fic, and i hope you enjoy!  <3  
> also i'm not really sure what i was going for with the ending, but for some reason this one gave me trouble and in the end i left it and figured the fic would sort itself out ^^;;

Yuzu can barely see straight when she first sits down at the cafe, cradling her head in her hands. She's been writing sheet music for six hours straight now, and the previous six hours were spent studying historical musical theory for her upcoming exam. Right now, she doesn't even want to  _ look  _ at another textbook or else her head will spin with even more names and dates. She doesn't want to become a music lecturer so why does she need to know all the history behind famous composers? Who's going to quiz her when she's part of an orchestra for the Maiami City Dueling Arena?

At least she knows what she wants to do. She knows she wants to be a part of the Entertainment Dueling community in Maiami City, and over the years the dueling stadiums have become particularly interested in alternative ways to invite the audience's participation or to safely build hype and surprise. One such strategy is the inclusion of music. After all, music touches the soul in unique ways and stirs up complex emotions that can bring about the hype and joy Entertainment Dueling sparks in both duelist and audience, all without any unfortunate manic side effects.

But right now, Yuzu's mind can barely focus on any of that. She has her latte in front of her, but when she blearily raises her head from the table, her hazy eyes blur before she can see the cute art in the foam. Instead, she drags her gaze to the side and to the windowsill, where she sees ... a book. A book, propped up against the corner, its spine bound in cheap leather. Some of the pages look torn around the corners and edges, but overall the book seems to be in well-loved condition.

_ Must've forgot it ...  _ she thinks, and she picks up the book. As she rolls it from hand to hand, Yuzu spots that it's not the sort of book she was thinking of. There's no cover page or title, nor are there any words etched along the spine. The book is solid black leather without any distinguishing features.

And inside, instead of words, there are pictures.

Yuzu slaps it closed before she can get a closer look. She knows very well that an artist's sketchbook is a private piece of work, and that no one should be prying into their sketches without permission. Her own composition book has only ever been seen by Yuuya and her father; no one else has ever looked at her original pieces. So she holds the book closed and gazes around the cafe. Maybe whoever this book belongs to is still here. She can't discern the owner from anyone else without profiling the person as an "artsy" character, but as she gazes over the wooden tables and chairs, and around the chatty shop floor, no one sticks out to her.

Figures. Whoever this book belongs to must have gone home.

Carefully, she opens the book once more, but only to the first page. In her own composition book, she has her name on the first page. But this book has no name on the first page, or on the final page. She tries not to look too much at the art, her cheeks burning as if she were gazing into someone's private affairs, but she can't help but scan over every single page looking for a legible signature or a name or  _ something.  _ The book is  _ full  _ of sketches of people and plants and buildings, mostly in graphite but some in watercolour pencils too. Yuzu recognises some of the parks she and Yuuya have visited on warm summer days, and certain landscapes even look like her university campus.

The sketches of people have her interested though. There's not a single face on any single person, just an empty oval occasionally shaded on one side. But the people's clothes stand out brighter than a circus troupe—large, colourful pants and skirts, costumes glimmering with crystal and decorated with ribbons. They look like the attire of Entertainment Duelists, and she wonders if perhaps this artist has ever attended a duel.

Once more, she peeks over the top of the book. Will anyone come back here to claim this, or should she go looking for the person herself? Would she even be able to find someone based on these sketches alone? A reasonable choice would be to hand the sketchbook over to the barista and let them know that an artist lost this, or to stay in the cafe and wait for the artist to show up in a huff and hurry. But ... Yuzu's heart itches to find this person out in the open.

With a huff, she hurries to her feet and heads out the cafe door, latte untouched. She holds the book tightly to her chest, refusing to let even a page open and reveal its contents to the world. It feels like she's holding the universe's most precious treasure in her hands. In a way, she is. Whoever this artist is, Yuzu wants to meet them personally. She wants to know who draws faceless entertainers. She wants to know more about this person.

First, she heads to the parks she recognises in the sketches, but other than the beautiful sight of the rolling hills and the blue sky, she doesn't see anyone sleeping under the trees or wandering down the paved paths—or frantically trying to look for their sketchbook. So she heads back into the city and to the dueling arena, a tall, sphere-shaped building with glass walls and a courtyard so wide that non-professional duelists can host their own matches out of the streets. Buskers Duelists, Yuuya calls them. But here, while the environment is lively and certainly some attire resembles the colourful pastiche of garments in the sketchbook, the artist is absent.

Yuzu sighs to herself. Her grand idea was to find the artist themself and return the sketchbook, and maybe see them in their element. But as she now wanders through the streets, kicking dust with the corners of her shoes, Yuzu realises that this may have been a more foolish idea than she originally thought. Find the artist in their "natural habitat?" Return the sketchbook?

_ I should have just given it to the barista,  _ she thinks to herself. It would have saved her an hour's worth of hassling around the city. Besides, did she truly think she'd just run into someone?

Fortunately, through all her pitying, she wanders right back to the cafe. An hour later and it still looks like the same place with the same clientele: jam-packed with customers in all manner of eclectic, hippie wear; baristas wearing the same attire at the counter and brewing organic concoctions. But in the corner of the room sits someone who stands out from the general crowd: a boy with bright blue hair pulled up into a ponytail above his head. He wears bright prints like the sketches in the book, and though his general attire fits with the style of the room, what makes him truly stand out is the  _ lollipop in his hand— _ a face-size, multi-coloured confection made purely of sugar and food dye, the likes of which Yuzu would never, ever see in a hippie cafe.

Her eyes widen at the sight of boy and his lollipop, and he seems to spot her too—and the sketchbook in her hands.

"That's—"

"This is yours?" Yuzu rushes the words out between his lips, and hurries forward to pass it over to him. She holds it in both hands as if offering a gift to the gods, and the boy takes it in both hands and cradles it to his own chest. He pushes his nose down into it, and then glances back up at her.

Yuzu beats him to the words. "Sorry, I went looking for you, and I wasn't sure if you'd come back for it, and—"

"I can't believe someone found it, I thought I lost it." The boy slaps a hand over the book and lets out a deep breath he must've been holding in. "Don't worry, you're a lifesaver. Honestly."

Yuzu chuckles weakly. She wouldn't really call running around the city with the book "being a lifesaver."

But the boy continues on in earnest. "Can I pay you back somehow? A drink maybe? Do you come here often?"

"Y-yeah," Yuzu says, and then nods her head. She eyes the lollipop that the boy has tried to shove to the side of his mouth, and at her glance he laughs.

"I come here for the hot chocolate, all right? Not for the health benefits."

"Same," Yuzu says. "Or the caffeine." She runs her fingers through her hair and up over her fringe. She can  _ feel  _ the grease in her hair; no doubt she looks like quite the sight after all her studying, and from running around the hot city for an hour. "Yeah ... actually, I'll take a hot chocolate, if you're paying."

The boy twirls a keychained wallet around on his pointer finger. "A good choice. Sit tight and I'll bring it to you."

Yuzu opens her mouth to tell him that she should really be on his way, but he spins through the crowd and disappears before she can call him back. Reluctantly, she perches herself on the corner of the table and waits for him to return. She hadn't expected to start a conversation with the boy, but as she waits for him, she realises that there is something else she ought to say, something that itches the tip of her tongue.

When the boy returns, she blurts it out.

"I'm sorry I looked through your sketchbook."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I look through the pages to try and find out your name, and I know it's impolite to look through another's work, but I thought I might be able to find out who you were and deliver it to you."

He hands her the hot chocolate. "It's Sora."

"Huh?"

"My name." He thumps his chest with hiss free hand, and then takes a deep sip from his own cup. Hot chocolate stains his upper lip, and he licks it off. "And don't worry, I'm not going to get upset that you went looking for me. It's not like you ripped the book from my hands and tried to look at my art. So it's fine."

"... oh." If anyone had looked at Yuzu's composition book—even if they were trying to look at her—she'd have decked them for their impoliteness. But Sora just shrugs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, and licks the large lollipop without much care.

"Did you like them?"

"Ah—huh?"

"My art," Sora says. "What'd you think?"

"Ah—ah, it's ... good." She blushes to her pink roots, and tries to hide her embarrassment behind the rim of her cup. Surely there's a dozen better things she could have said, but all that comes to mind is, "You use a lot of colours."

"Entertainment Duelists are pretty colourful," Sora says. "Sometimes I go to matches just to watch them twist and twirl so freely through the sky. They say there's a dark history to Entertainment Dueling, but I think that's what makes it all the more brighter today—because we've moved on past that darkness and embraced a new art. Or"—he scratches his head and laughs—"because it's the only place in the whole dimension where you can get away with mismatched patterns."

Yuzu nods her head, up and down. She knows about the original form of Entertainment Dueling, as her father is an active member of the dueling community, but she's never been able to describe the feeling of Entertainment Dueling quite so succinctly.

"I like the music too," Sora continues. "Sometimes I go there just to listen to the musicians."

Oh. Yuzu swallows thickly. Her father plays her music on the loudspeakers sometimes ...

"You ever heard the song  _ Melodious?  _ It's part of a larger collection, I think—"

"That's ... that's mine."

Sora's eyes widen to the size of his lollipop, but before Yuzu can even leap to her defense or crush his enthusiasm or do something, Sora leans forward and snatches up her hands. His sketchbook drops to the floor, and in his hurry lukewarm hot chocolate spills over their hands—but he grabs her hand and shakes it up as down as if meeting his favourite celebrity, all the while crowing, "Oh my gosh, you're—you're the Melodious Maestra, my favourite composer! How lucky I am to meet you! Oh gosh, today is such a good day—"

Yuzu's face bursts pink. Sora has her hand in too tight of a grip for her to slip free, and so softly Yuzu says, "Yeah, that's me: Hiiragi Yuzu, the Melodious Maestra—"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, teacher!"

"T-tea—"

"Do you have more songs to share? Do you have any recorded on your phone? Can I listen?"

The questions come too quickly to answer, and over the clinks and clatters of the coffee shop, Sora's words blend into the cacophony that threaten to whisk Yuzu out the door and up into the sky. Her head feels like it's in the clouds, and the only feeling grounding her is Sora's hands round her own.

As if sensing her hesitation, Sora lowers a voice a bit and asks, "If that's all right, of course."

"My—my compositions," Yuzu says, and nods weakly. "Yeah, here ... let's get outside and I'll show them to you."

In a flash, Sora whisks her right out of the cafe and out onto the streets. Yuzu's feet wheel to keep up with him; he moves like a bouncy ball and weaves through crowds like a ribbon. He never stays still, too full of energy and enthusiasm. It's even contagious—as she runs through the busy downtown streets with him, she feels her own heart race in her chest, like a symphony has begun, and the music threatens to burst from her lips when at last she finds herself in a quiet part of the park she had just visited. She recognises the hills and paths, and there are still puffy, white clouds casting their thick shadows over the grass.

"I come here often when I need some peace and quiet," Sora says. He spins on his heel to face her and tips his head to the side. "Well?"

Yuzu swallows. She doesn't share her music with strangers; she doesn't even use her own name when she produces music. But Sora's free spirit ignites a burning passion in her, and though her hands shake as he pulls out her phone, she finds the new track she recorded and plays it for him. It's a song about seasons—unoriginal, a violin and piano duet with short notes to symbolise the arrival of spring and summer, and long, lonesome notes to denote the falling leaves and the growing cold. For Entertainment Duelists, this song would play to represent the back and forth of dueling and the change in pace in battles. She wrote if for Yuuya whose dueling is always a conversation, a back and forth between duelist and monster and audience.

Peeking over her phone, Yuzu sees Sora with his eyes closed. He rests in the grass, warm gaze turned up the blue sky. He looks at peace, and doesn't say a word for the entire composition. When the song is done, he still doesn't say anything, letting the notes dissipate through the silent air, slowly replaced by the rustle of the wind in the leaves and the pitter-patter of footsteps on the path.

"Can you write me a song?"

Yuzu blinks. "Huh?"

"I'll pay," Sora says, and then laughs. "I mean, can you write a song for something I want to perform, or create?" He reaches behind him and pulls out his sketchbook. Yuzu recognises the page he opens to: the faceless duelists, full of colour and style but ultimately anonymous creatures. "Write a song about the duelists to give them a face."

"A face?" Yuzu echoes.

"Yeah, to make them human. Like ...." Sora taps his fingers to the picture. "This is a duelist named Yuuya. Write a song about Yuuya—not about Entertainment Dueling, not about some grandiose carnival experience. Write a song about Yuuya as if he matters. Or"—he points to a drawing of a woman wrapped in fabrics and playing a violin—" write a song about Yuzu, the composer of the music."

"Oh ... kay."

"Because ..." Sora claps his hands together. "I want to hear a song about someone that matters, not something that they did. So tell me about the person—about Yuzu or Yuuya ... or even about me.  And ... I want to learn more about you, teacher."

"So?"

"So I can be your friend."

The words hit her square in the chest, and Yuzu steps back, startled. She tries to say something back—and hopefully something smart and mature—but her voice catches in her throat, and in the end she just falls down onto the grass and lets her body sink to the ground. Her eyes slip closed just as a cloud passes over her head and offers her a moment's respite from the hot sun.

"Teacher?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad it was you who found my sketchbook. Now you know about me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I can't believe I met the Melodious Maestra."

_ Me neither,  _ Yuzu wants to say, but she holds it under her tongue, pillows her head in her arm, and smiles. Because she's thankful she met Sora.


End file.
